


in a flurry that lasts

by CoraClavia



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, John/Elizabeth - Freeform, Oneshot, Season 3, Sparky - Freeform, and just a hint of supply closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney? - is there an explanation for this, or...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a flurry that lasts

**Author's Note:**

> The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
> 
> \- ee cummings

All in all, it’s one of the stranger experiences she’s had in Atlantis.

Not necessarily life-changing or dramatic. Just strange.

“Rodney? - is there an explanation for this, or - ?”

Her voice trails off as she stretches out a hand, disbelieving, thinking she can’t be seeing what she thinks she’s seeing.

Snow.

Snowflakes flutter from the ceiling, soft and feathery, melting on the warmth of her skin. There’s already a thick dusting of snow on the floor, stretching across the long, dimly-lit room that may or may not have been a lab of some kind. Or maybe Narnia. Hard to tell. The air is surprisingly cold, a shock to her skin after the comfortable ambient temperature of the rest of the city. Elizabeth wraps her arms around herself, watching her breath puff out in soft white clouds.

“Rodney!” John stops short behind her, clearly just come from the transporter. “Wait. Is it - _snowing_ in here?”

“It is.” Rodney’s engrossed in some kind of control panel, occasionally wiping snowflakes off it. “Well. It’s precipitating, and given that the current temperature control seems to be defaulted to -”

“Snowing. Got it.” John scuffs a boot in the snow curiously. “Well. This is new.”

Zelenka’s head pops up from behind some kind of console. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

Elizabeth clenches her teeth. She should have brought her jacket. She’s freezing. “What purpose would this have served?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Rodney shrugs.

“Maybe they wanted to teach their kids how to make snow angels.” John’s voice is deadpan. “Or maybe they were preparing to invade Canada.”

“Hahaaaa,” Rodney shoots at him. “Thank you, Mr. Clever. For the record, there’s a lot more to Canada than just snow.”

John shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’re right. There are moose. And Nickelback.”

“Oh, would you just -”

“ _Gentlemen_ ,” Elizabeth says, a little too loudly. But at least it shuts them up.

“Actually, there are a number of possibilities,” Radek pipes up. “They may have been trying to create an artificial climate system. It’s possible they wanted to test agricultural methods, maybe imitate something they found on another world. We’re not sure.”

“So...you found a snow playground?” John grins. “Nice.”

“On the bright side, this is probably the least dangerous thing we’ve discovered in the city so far,” he points out helpfully, wiping off his glasses. “Well. Probably. It doesn’t _seem_ dangerous, although you never -”

“Yes, thank you, Radek.” Elizabeth clears her throat. “I assume you’re planning to keep exploring this sector?”

“Yes, Dr. Weir.”

“ _We_ were both thinking that.” Rodney folds his arms, glaring pointedly at Zelenka, and Elizabeth has to bite back the observation that this is the first time she’s ever seen Rodney eager to share credit for anything. “We might need you to translate if we run into text, but so far, we’re just working on the science.”

She opens her mouth to ask Rodney another question when a snowball hits her square in the shoulder, exploding into a cloud of snow that blinds her. She sputters.

He _didn’t_.

* * *

John’s feeling fairly pleased with himself as Elizabeth freezes, clumps of melting snow dripping off her face. It was a sudden instinct, but one he just had to try. Besides, it’s good packing snow. It’d be a crime to waste it.

“Jonathan. Sheppard.”

Her voice is deadly calm, and he has the fleeting realization that he might have just made a tactical error. He’s done some damn stupid things, but she’s never used his full name before.

“Yesssssss?” He fixes her with his most innocent expression, hoping it’ll work its magic. It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Did you just throw a snowball at me?”

“Define ‘throw.’”

“ _John_.”

He raises his hands. “I was just testing Ancient snow technology. This was for science.”

“Science. Really.” She doesn’t look amused. Actually, she looks adorable, with snowflakes clinging to her soft dark curls, her cheeks pink with cold, but he’s pretty sure she won’t appreciate hearing that.

“Science. Right, Zelenka?”

“Don’t bring me into this.” Radek disappears behind his console again. “You’re on your own.”

“Mmhmm.” Elizabeth’s edging closer, and John doesn’t like the look on her face. Like she’s a cat and he’s a particularly delectable-looking mouse.

Well. He likes it a little.

“Lizabeth. We’re not going to have a snowball fight.”

“Who said anything about a snowball fight, _Colonel?”_ There’s laughter in her voice, which is probably the only reason she hasn’t pulverized him. He’s always known that she’s a pretty woman; he’s recently begun to suspect that she can kill people with her brain.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Rodney rolls his eyes. “Why did I even bother calling you down here?”

“Because you value my scientific perspective,” John informs him. “And you know I -”

A snowball explodes in his face, sending him into a fit of coughing, but even as he wipes snow from his eyes, he can see the archness dancing in her expression, the little smile on her lips.

He hears Rodney mumble something that sounds like _surrounded by children_ but ignores it, because Elizabeth Weir just hurled a snowball at his face and that is a situation that calls for repercussions.

“Oh, this is war, Doctor.”

He grabs for snow and flings it at her, ducking to avoid her missiles, and as stupid as this all is, having a snowball fight with his (technical) boss, it’s the best time he’s had in a long time.

And after a furious, fumbling battle, she finally grabs handfuls of loose snow, clearly intent on shoving them down his shirt.

He catches her wrists before she can pelt him,  and suddenly her body is flush with his, leaving him pressed against a rosy-cheeked, panting, smiling Elizabeth Weir, who’s looking up at him with astonishment.

His eyes flick down to her mouth almost involuntarily, because he wants to kiss her so badly he can taste it. And if he’s reading her expression correctly, she knows that.

He has the overwhelming urge to just lean forward, just a few inches, and she’s -

“Oh, just get a room,” Rodney groans. “You two are disgusting.”

* * *

John lets go of her wrists like he’s been burned, his eyes dark. Elizabeth can feel her face burning.

“Rodney -” she starts, not sure what exactly she’s going to say, but he rolls his eyes.

“You know about half the people here assume you’re already doing it, right?”

 _“McKay,”_ John hisses, but he sounds more embarrassed than anything. His voice is higher than usual, and damn it, it’s adorable.

“I think Dr. McKay and I should go - fix - something,” Zelenka blurts out. “Now. Somewhere else.”

He drags a loudly-complaining Rodney out the door with him, leaving Elizabeth and John staring at each other as snowflakes dance around them. She can see the soft clouds of their breaths mingling in the chill air, but her whole body is warm, alight, glowing with purpose.

This is why she’s never let herself think about this.

Because it’s been a long time - a very, very long time - since she’s felt so strongly about anyone, and for three years, she’s been repressing it all. And suddenly it’s escaping, swirling her with a tidal wave of pent-up _want_. 

“‘Lizabeth, I’m -”

She kisses him before he can say _sorry_ , because she’s sort of run out of reasons not to.

He kisses her back without hesitation, and from the sudden flush as he cradles her face in his hands and teases her with his tongue, she’s pretty sure he’s been wanting to do this as she has.

She buries her fingers in his hair and sighs into his mouth. John’s a good kisser. He’s a very, very good kisser. He nips lightly at her bottom lip, sliding his tongue over it briefly. _Oh._

Maybe she’s not the only one who’s been trying desperately to keep it hidden.

When he finally lets her go, Elizabeth half-stumbles back, dazed. “Why haven’t we done that before?”

“No idea. I’ve imagined it once or twice,” he remarks casually, drawing his hand up the line of her back. “Never thought you’d just up and jump me. In a snowstorm, no less.”

She flushes, but can’t stop smiling. “Just once or twice?”

“Like you haven’t.”

She has. More times than she should admit. And not just because there was that one time they kissed.

Well, other people kissed for them.

“At least this time we’re not trying to kill each other.”

“Right.” John brushes a soft curl out of her face. “I like this a lot better.”

* * *

An hour later, Elizabeth is in her office, reading through Rodney’s preliminary report on the Snowball Room, as John had insisted on calling it. He’d claimed he was naming it after something in Mammoth Cave. Rodney was unimpressed.

Her earpiece crackles. “Whatcha doing?” John’s voice is light over the radio.

“Working.”

“Of course you are.” She can hear him smiling. “You know, I heard something once about all work and no play…”

“You’re saying I’m a dull boy?”

“No and no,” he laughs. “Just going to point out that you might benefit from some distraction.”

“Really.” She sits back in her chair, folding her arms, and deliberately lowers her voice, soft and breathy. “You want to come - _distract_ me?”

There’s a long moment, and John lets out a soft noise. “You’re an evil woman. You know that, right?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Elizabeth murmurs. “I’m just sitting at my desk.”

“You want to know what I could do to you on that desk?”

“ _John_.” Her cheeks get hot. Because now she’s thinking about it. And his voice is lazy and sexy and too intimate, right in her ear, and now that she’s let herself start kissing him, she can’t stop thinking about doing a lot more than kissing. And she has the sneaking suspicion that the sex is going to be unbelievable.

“Fine.” She hears him huff a sigh. “I have training to get to.”

“Have fun.”

“You know -” there’s mischief in his voice, and that’s never a good sign - “if you need a break around three, there’s a storage closet down the hallway near the jumper bay.”

“A storage closet?”

“If you need some distraction.”

The radio cuts off before she can say anything, and Elizabeth shakes her head, smiling. She can never stop smiling with him. Even when he's somewhere across the city, his attitude is infectious.

_He’s the worst._

* * *

At 2:59 on the dot, Elizabeth casts a quick glance around, seeing no one in the hallway, and slips inside the storage closet.

 


End file.
